“By 8:30 a.m. the heat was pouring down and all hands were stripped to minimum apparel. Once again the silence of the ether was broken, this time by the most dreaded call of all merchantmen – ‘Enemy surface raider’. A nearby ship reported sighting an enemy cruiser, then modified that to read ‘two enemy cruisers and one aircraft-carrier’. Once again a ship in our immediate vicinity was the victim. In her next message she reported being shelled and at that point we could see the gun flashes in the distance. Only minutes later two ships took shape on the eastern horizon, a flat-top and a cruiser. The old man himself came running down from the bridge with a messeage for me to transmit. I began to tap out our plight to the listening shore station; RRR S.S. Sinkiang SIGHTED ENEMY CRUISER AND AIRCRAFT-CARRIER. The old man rushed back down again almost immediately. This time the news was worse. The message: BEING CHASED BY ENEMY CRUISER. I despatched it, then stole a glance through the porthole. The enemy ship was now assuming enormous proportions and coming up fast on the port quarter. Already I could see her for’ard gun turret trained on my radio room. Or so it seemed!
“On sighting the enemy we had changed our course and were now making a beeline for the nearest point of land which was about twenty-five miles away. In reality we never had a chance to make it against her superior speed. The next time I looked through the porthole there was no doubt in my mind that we were at point-blank range.
“Thoughts of my loved ones back home raced through my mind and I bade them a silent goodbye. I was waiting, waiting, waiting – expecting to be blown to pieces any moment. Then I did a peculiar thing. I walked to the door and closed it. That brought me a strange feeling of protection. I sat down again and then IT happened.
“I saw the flash of guns through the porthole, there was a terrific crash on board and the ship gave a heeling shudder. There was the alarming sound of escaping steam. My movements were almost automatic. The transmitter was still running and I started to send RRR Sinkiang BEING SHELLED ... halfway through there was another explosion as more shells struck. So far I was still intact so I carried on. Another flash and then a blinding one at starboard. With that my eardrums felt as though they were bursting and I was on the floor with the door beside me. The porthole wasn’t there anymore. My radio room had been partially demolished.
“I soon discovered that I hadn’t escaped scot free. I picked myself up and looked down at my feet which felt strangely warm and wet. Blood was pouring from gaping holes in my legs. Panic seized me. I tried to run and couldn’t. Something was catching on my left ankle. A wood splinter, the size of an average piece of kindling, was protruding from just above my right ankle on the inside of my leg. I bent down, pulled, and it came out with a sucking sound. And then I ran. I jumped about four feet over a shell-hole in the deck and noticed the steam issuing from the engine-room skylight as I ran by. I was passing the old man’s cabin when the next salvo struck. I don’t know where it landed but the bang and shudder registered on my consciousness.
“I reached the starboard side where all hands still alive had gathered. Two Chinese seamen were trying to lower a boat under the direction of the old man. He took one look at my bloody legs and pointed to the boat. It was already three feet or so below the level of the boat deck and I had to jump down into it. I was looking around for the drain plug when the bow swung down, pitching me into the sea. As I landed in the drink the bow of the suspended lifeboat hit me in the back and dragged me under. I struggled free and floated astern, kicking out instinctively as the Sinkiang propeller passed me. The inertia of the ship was carrying her on.
“The distance between the two ships and myself widened rapidly and I became a spectator of the drama’s final act. I watched salvo after salvo being pumped into the Sinkiang. At each hit, huge pieces of debris were flung some two hundred feet into the air, landing all around me, although by then I was a fair distance away. At last the end came. Her bow reared into the air and she went down almost perpendicular. A thick column of water spouted where she had been.
“The cruiser was under way immediately and soon disappeared from sight. I felt that my last human link had gone and I floated around feeling utterly lonely and convinced that I was the sole survivor. I knew that my kapok vest would keep me afloat for a reasonable time but there was always the possibility that my blood would attract sharks which abounded in those waters. I had no idea of time as I rode on the swell but I know it seemed like an eternity. Then I spotted an object about six hundred yards away and anxiously waited to rise again with the swell. Salvation was in sight! An empty lifeboat was wallowing around and I swam towards it. By that time my legs were feeling stiff, the right one was totally useless and I swam with it trailing. Slowly the distance decreased until at length I was alongside the boat. It was low in the water and by summoning all my diminishing strength, I dragged myself over.
“It was half full of water, I lay on the seat, weak through loss of blood. And lonely, terribly lonely.
“Much later (or so it seemed) I wondered whether my ears were deceiving me or was I hearing the sound of a swimmer approaching. There was a muffled grunt and two hands grasped the gunwale on the other side. Slowly the head appeared and then the body. My companion was Len the gunner, whose torn shorts revealed a nasty big wound in his right thigh. He lay down on the opposite seat, gritted his teeth and cursed our tormentors.
“‘Bastards, bastards, dirty rotten bastards,’ and then looking down into the water-logged boat ‘Have to bale this leaky bastard out.’ He groped around and came up with an empty can; I groped on my side and found the drinking water ladle. We began to bail.
“‘Emptying yet another ladleful of water into the sea, I spotted a destroyer approaching. ‘Better get down’ I said to Len. We were aware of the Japanese reputation for machinegunning survivors so we knelt in the bottom of the boat while peering cautiously over the gunwale. She came on until we could see the leering grins on the faces of her crew as they lined the rail. We crouched further down in the boat, fearful of the consequences should they spot us. After a few tense minutes Len could stand it no longer and stole a quick look. Relief showed in his eyes and voice, ‘She’s away,’ he said. We observed her stern on, heading swiftly for the horizon. Then we went on bailing.
“That was when I looked at my watch and realized it was still going. The hands registered 10:30 a.m. My last message had been sent at 9:05 a.m.
“We were soon joined by more survivors. A few had miraculously escaped injury. Those from below were all suffering from scalds; the first salvo had been a direct hit in the boilers. When the Second Mate joined us he took command. The shrapnel holes in the boat were plugged with kapok from a torn life-jacket and the bailing continued until only a few inches of water remained. By 1 p.m. our numbers had swelled to twenty-one. The Mate had come aboard and he took over the command. The last ones to be picked up were the old man and the Second Engineer. The old man was clinging to a piece of wreckage with one hand and holding up the Second with the other. He’d been doing that for nearly four hours. The Second Engineer was in a pitiful state with his spine showing through the gaping hole in his back. He screamed in agony as he was hoisted over the gunwale.
“The lifeboat was now carrying maximum load and riding dangerously close to the water-line. The old man assumed command, ordered the oars manned, and we headed in the direction of the distant coastline.
“The sun beat down furiously and one of the gunners who’d been scalded over most of his body, began to lose his reason. The sun’s heat aggravated his scald wounds to such an extent that his only wish was to leap into the cool sea and he had to be forcibly restrained. Each roll of the boat brought a hoarse cry of agony from the Second Engineer and he was pleading to be thrown overboard. Huddled in the bow lay the Chief Steward, another victim of the scalding steam. Around three o’clock he uttered a low weak moan and passed away, seemingly of shock. Lying in the bottom of the boat, immediately below me, was a Chinese seaman. The front of his shirt was an awful gory mess. Water washed back and forth over his face and no bubbles rose as it